


Was that me? Was that him?

by gourmetpap3r



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character, theres some pining there...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gourmetpap3r/pseuds/gourmetpap3r
Summary: after Haven, Inquisitor Lavellan decides to go for a stroll throughout Skyhold in the dead of night. He encounters Dorian, and they share a.. moment.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Was that me? Was that him?

**Author's Note:**

> head first into dragon age hell lets go. title from moments in the woods from into the woods
> 
> im well aware the windows in the library dont have window sills, or that hair doesnt /actually/ turn entirely white from stress. but idgaf this is my story and i think its cool!!  
> also taliesin is trans+autistic because i PROJECT, babey!! it doesnt directly come up in this fic but jus throwing it out there
> 
> my inquisitor is Inquisitor Taliesin Lavellan, and is referred to by that name a few times- i've tried using Lavellan where i could but alas this is purely self indulgent + i might write more of them pining, once i figure out how to properly write for dorian, anyway

Taliesin Lavellan is many things. A leader he is not. It’s not that he does not enjoy talking to people, or making friends. It’s just that sometimes his eyes will wander during conversations, in an attempt to shield himself. His hands will be unable to remain idle and sitting still is in no way an easy feat. He always feels like there’s a barrier between him and his peers, and picking out what exactly people mean by their words is hard to say the least. At Haven blending in was easy enough. Maybe he was the Herald of Andraste for many, in spite of how many times he insisted no prophet had sent him (nor did he even worship Andraste)- but at least he was one of many. He could hide in a corner somewhere near Haven, unbothered as he watches the breach in the sky. 

He wishes he spoke more to his companions, but as the latest war table effort is cleared and he has to pack for another week-long trek through the Hinterlands, much energy isn’t found in having another chat with Solas.

Most of the time he retires to his quarters, and falls into restless sleep. He wakes up and nothing has changed, and when he sees his reflection for the first time in weeks he does not recognise himself. 

Most of all he would like to go back to normal.

So it goes without saying he does not want to lead an inquisition. 

After Haven, he sleeps. For longer than he would like to admit, longer than is probably responsible. Realization dawns on him after the fact, when he’s walking up a long trek of stairs in order to rest for the night. Recovery is a long and painful process, but if he pushes himself to get up and get going before his body is ready, then nobody needs to know.

_Inquisitor._

A new title, it somehow bears more weight than the Herald. At least he could deny being the Herald, but this; this is too real. It’s too heavy. Too foreign for a dalish elf; not that he felt like he was even that anymore.

His identity has been stripped from him, he doesn’t look like himself anymore, nor does he feel like himself.

Skyhold is too vast, and he spends too much time on his own in his quarters, hoping, wishing that something could change. That he could go home and that’d be it. Everything could be normal again. 

It’d be nice to have one constant thing, an anchor- as stupid as the usage of that term is by now. 

It’s night and he can’t sleep. The throbbing in his hand won’t go away and damnit he doesn’t feel like he’s ever getting used to how every nerve in his body feels like it's on fire. For reasons unknown he finds himself wandering the grand hall, void of people by now as people have settled in for the night- save for the few still drinking horribly-tasting alcohol with The Iron Bull and the Chargers (Lavellan can practically hear them singing from all the way over here).

He does not know where to go, and maybe it feels freeing. He’s so lost in his own thoughts and hyperfocus that he barely realizes he’s standing in the library. Standing in the library normally wouldn’t be a problem until he realizes that he isn’t alone. Dorian is sitting in his usual spot by the window, with a glass of wine, and a book. A small magical light is illuminating his small corner, highlighting the highs and lows of his face. Lavellan watches him for a moment or two, letting his gaze linger until he breaks his trance.

“Oh, sorry-” Lavellan breaks the silence as if on autopilot. 

“Yes, I’m afraid your presence disturbed my research into forbidden, evil Tevinter arts in my grand plot to overthrow the South- I have to stay true to my reputation after all.” Dorian remarks, the joke doesn’t earn an (audible) laugh. Dorian is quiet for a moment before speaking again: “So- Inquisitor, is it now?” 

“Unfortunately.” Lavellan lets slip.

“That’s bold.” Dorian raises a brow with a smirk.

“I didn’t think ‘bold’ would be a problem for _you_.” 

“Touché- regardless, is there a reason you are here? I suppose it’d be too wishful thinking to hope you might be here for my sake alone.”

“Ah no- I just, I couldn’t sleep.” Taliesin explains promptly. “Not that, your presence is a bad thing- I just don’t see a lot of- Skyhold is big-” He pauses, rubs his temples. “Can I start over?”

Dorian tilts his head with a smile. Lavellan takes it as a ‘yes’. He takes a moment to find words.

“I just..” Lavellan glances to his hand, the painful throbbing in it apparent as ever. He decides it’s probably not anything Dorian wishes to hear about, though. “ I needed to get out of bed, I didn’t think _anyone_ would be awake this late- Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“That’s me, completely destroying societal expectations.” Dorian lets out a lighthearted huff. “And you didn’t disturb me, I’m delighted to have colorful company at these odd hours.” 

Lavellan does not know how to respond to that properly, so instead he chuckles awkwardly and lightly leans against a bookshelf a few feet from Dorian. “Colorful company?” He questions. There’s a quiet moment shared between them as Dorian drinks from his glass of wine and he sets it down with a clink. 

“That _was_ supposed to be a compliment.”

“Ah, sorry I’m not really good with… “ he struggles to find words and just ends up waving his hands around. Dorian seems to understand what he means.

“No harm done. Either way, we haven't spoken properly since before... Haven. I have been meaning to ask whether you’re holding up okay, but I can never seem to find you.”

“I’m not good with talking. Words are… hard.” Lavellan explains with a hand gesture. “This whole inquisitor business is-” he pauses, “ It’s been… stressful. Would you believe me if I told you my hair used to be dark brown?” He chuckles awkwardly for the second time that night.

Dorian examines Lavellans shoulder length white hair and laughs before the realization dawns on him. “Surely you jest.”

“I’m afraid not.” 

“If it's any consolation, you look dashing regardless of hair color.”

Lavellans gaze meets Dorians before shifting down again. 

He clears his throat. “So, what are you..” he lets his sentence trail off as he gestures to the book, tilting his head to read the title, Dorian cuts him off before he can finish. 

“Swords and shields- one of Varric's smut novels, it is simply terrible.”

“Why are you reading it then?” Lavellan blinks.

“That is _exactly_ why I'm reading it.”

Lavellan supposes he can understand that, so he chuckles and takes a proper seat on the window sill. He pauses, “Dorian can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

Lavellan smiles to himself. “What do you make of all of this?”

Dorian thinks. “Assuming you're referring to The Inquisition, I think you're better at your job than you give yourself credit for. Unless, of course you were referring to my opinion on the food served here, then I’m sure I'll need more time to list my answers.”

“You really think I'm doing a good job?” Lavellan sighs gently in disbelief.

“Trust me when I tell you that I don't think anyone capable of doing a better job than you, not to mention how good you look doing it”

Lavellan really should be used to Dorian's remarks, yet they still bring a blush to his cheeks. He looks away hastily to avoid further embarrassment.

“Either way-” Dorian breaks the silence as he closes his book with a thud. “I think I’ll retire to my quarters for the night, I shall see you in the morning, lest you be so inclined to join me.” He brings a gentle hand to Lavellan's cheek and tucks his hair behind his ear. Lavellan's ear flicks instinctively at the contact, and Dorian seems to take notice, for he comments: 

“Oh that’s cute.” A pause. “Goodnight, Inquisitor.” 

Lavellan can do nothing but stare in awe and watch as Dorian descends down the stairs, into the night.

_What was that._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
